


all blood flows red

by yourlittlebird



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Food is People, M/M, Will has repressed desires, hannibal loves it, intense staring, jack is a background character, nothing too exciting though, some mild sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlittlebird/pseuds/yourlittlebird
Summary: There's a Hannibal that lives in Will's dreams. Will wishes that Hannibal was real life.Hannibal wants that too.





	all blood flows red

**Author's Note:**

> a sort-of continuation of my other piece, thicker than water, but it stands alone. feel free to check it out if you're really feeling it!

Will doesn’t understand how this could be happening to him. He’s kept his hands clean—with maybe one exception – but he feels undeserving of the hell he’s experiencing. What kind of person lusts after their sole friend, the only person willing to deal with his breakdowns and listen to his nightmares? Much less getting off to that person being _violent_.

 

Will feels the full brunt of the universe’s injustice every time he jolts awake from yet another Hannibal dream. This one featured Hannibal stroking his hands through his curls with blood-soaked fingers, feeding him some unidentifiable chunks of something too sweet to be pig. _It’s only a dream_ , his mind cuts in, but it doesn’t stop his dream-form from writhing and moaning at every catch of Hannibal’s hand in his hair.

 

As with every dream, he wakes from it sweaty and aroused and drenched with shame.

 

He goes to Hannibal’s twice a week now, finding an excuse to sleep over more times than not. He knows he shouldn’t, knows he’s asking for trouble, but he can’t escape his desire to be close to the doctor. Hannibal is, of course, ever the gracious host, fixing Will coffee as he rushes around in the morning, explaining away his flush as oversleeping. Will is pretty sure he knows the truth, but Hannibal doesn’t pry so Will doesn’t elaborate.

 

Life falls into an almost normal pattern, quirks and all. Hannibal maintains his friendly distance, pushing only so far “as to help you, dear Will.” For the most part, he’s appreciative of the devoted attention the man gives him. Though Will admits, only privately to himself, that their dinners have been getting more difficult to get through.

 

Mostly because Hannibal won’t stop fucking _staring_.

 

It starts innocuously, like everything with Hannibal does. Will feels his eyes on him as he cuts into whatever fantastical dish Hannibal has prepared for him this time, but every time he gets up the nerve to look back his gaze has diverted to something else. That starts changing as Will opens up about his dreams.

 

Nothing about Hannibal’s role in them, no, Will would rather die than admit that to him. Just the blood, and the feeling that he should be guilty and the… ‘faceless entity’ who bites into him before he wakes up. “Perhaps this entity, as you refer to it, represents the Ripper,” Hannibal suggests, and Will can’t restrain the sudden jolt of fear that shoots through him.

 

“Maybe,” he mutters back, and swallows down the bile rising in his throat. Hannibal picks up on his distress, and Will could swear he noticed him smirking before turning the conversation back to the potential murder he’s committing in his dreams. He nods when he feels he’s supposed to, and ignores the way Hannibal’s eyes darken as he admits he’s fantasized about killing someone.

 

“Who?” Hannibal asks.

 

“No one in particular,” is Will’s reply, and to avoid talking about it more he bites down into another piece of loin. The meat bursts sweetly on his tongue, and he shudders as Hannibal visibly shifts in his seat. It’s suddenly all too much for him, the dark of the room and the heat of Hannibal’s gaze and the weight of the sweetness in his mouth. He barely registers standing up, but he knows Hannibal escorts him out. Will swears he feels Hannibal brush his hand gently over the back of his neck as he leaves, but turning to face the doctor yields him nothing but a faint smile. Will flushes and practically bolts to his car. Seeing Will’s evident distress, Hannibal lets a dark smile play across his face. His Will deserves a gift for tomorrow, he thinks, and he quietly flips through his business cards.

 

–

Will wakes up the next morning to a call from Jack. “Will. It’s another Ripper victim.” Will shakes away the remnants of his dream.

 

(a handjob, this time, slippery with blood and Hannibal’s spit, and the mess he wakes up in makes him glad he slept at home. ‘I overslept’ won’t work if the sheets are sticky.)

 

He’s prepared for the worst, but when he arrives at the crime scene his chest constricts none-the-less. A woman, nailed to a wall by hands and feet, a bloody halo around her head. Her stomach has been removed, an opening carved into her torso where a single white rose slowly turns red. “She’s beautiful,” he murmurs, and he feels Hannibal hum soft agreement. _This shouldn’t be how I feel_. _I should be disgusted_. _Afraid_ _, even_. But Hannibal is breathing softly into his ear, and Will feels like he’s been launched back into a dream.

 

“Good boy, Will,” Hannibal grows softly, and with every exhale Will feels his hands getting wetter with blood. Wheeling around, he grabs at Hannibal, eyes pleading for an answer, leaving bloody handprints on Hannibal’s face and suit.

 

“What… what’s happening to me?”

 

Hannibal only smiles, and suddenly Will notices that the hands cupping his face are bloody as well. They share a profound silence, allowing their heartbeats to fill the empty air, and then Jack clears his throat and the moment breaks. “So, Will? What do you think?” Swallowing down a bead of nervous energy, Will turns back to the woman. Her lips are painted red, and Will notices her heart has been placed into the cavern of her belly, next to the rose. Swallowing, he turns to face Jack, faltering at the intensity of Hannibal’s gaze.

 

“It’s… it’s an offering. He’s trying to show someone that they deserve attention, or love, or...” _Adoration_ , screams his brain, but to say such a thing in front of Jack seems tasteless, somehow. Jack rocks his weight back and forth, thinking, before looking back up and simply asking, “Who?”

 

Will glances at Hannibal, meeting the other man’s gaze with his own. The intensity in his eyes makes Will’s words shrivel up behind his teeth. A moment passes, and then another. Their hearts pulse together, once, twice, three times. He thinks of the blood on Hannibal’s hands, and the blood on his own. Dream-Hannibal’s mouth on his. A white rose stained red, a promise sealed in blood.

 

“I don’t know who it could be to.” Will feels the words before he says them, and the lie is as sweet as the flesh he’s been fed. Chancing one more glance at Hannibal, Will sees the dark pleasure in his eyes.

 

He can hardly wait for dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, ily for it  
> let me know if there's anything you'd like to see!


End file.
